


So We’d Never Have To See This Moment’s End

by nothingwithoutyouxo



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 15:44:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15609606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingwithoutyouxo/pseuds/nothingwithoutyouxo
Summary: Moritz wasn’t sure how Ilse had convinced him to do this, but between her and Martha he seemed to cave. It couldn’t be that bad right? Singing in  front of a room of people who didn’t even know him. There had to be some comfort in that.(An Open Mic Night AU where Moritz sings a song he wrote about Melchior because Melchior wasn't supposed to be there)





	So We’d Never Have To See This Moment’s End

**Author's Note:**

> Yesterday, my friend Corinne sent me a song because she thought I'd like it. She was right and that song ended up being the piece that this fic was missing. So this is for her, and for my friends Wyatt and Hannah.
> 
> The song used is On and On by Thirdstory, and any passages that are italicised are lyrics.

It wasn’t really the busiest night. Moritz was sure that when Ilse usually dragged him here there were far more people. He wasn’t sure if he preferred that or not. He wasn’t sure how she’d convinced him to do this, but between her and Martha he seemed to cave. It couldn’t be that bad right? Singing in front of people? Not only that, but singing in front of a room of people who didn’t even know him. There had to be some comfort in that. In the fact that when he left here tonight he’d probably never see anyone in this room again, aside from his friends at least. His friends, or at least as many of his friends that could make it, who for the most part hadn’t even heard him sing before. At least he’d know if he was terrible. His friends would tell him. Right? They’d have to.

 

“You are so tense,” Ilse smirked. She was rubbing circles into his back, probably trying to get rid of the tension. He didn’t think she’d be able to but he appreciated the gesture.

 

“When am I not?” he shot back.

 

She laughed at that, which seemed to help him more than he thought possible. “So, have you decided which song you’re playing?”

 

He shrugged. “Should I have?”

 

“Well, you’re sort of up next so you might want to make that decision now.”

 

Moritz knew that it was something he probably should have thought about, but he’d been betting on an impulse decision for this. He’d go with whatever felt right in the moment. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the crowd and tried to think of what song would best suit this environment. “Uh,” he muttered.

 

“I think you should sing ‘On and on’,” Ilse muttered. “Mainly just because I wanna hear it again.”

 

He looked over at her, grateful that she made the decision for him but with something else on his mind. “Is he -”

 

“Not coming,” she replied. “So, now you have no excuses.”

 

He rolled his eyes at her. “Fine, I’ll sing your favourite.”

 

“Oh, don’t act like it’s a chore. It’s one of the best ones you’ve written and you know it.”

 

He did. It just wasn’t something that he admitted. The person before him was starting to wrap up so he stood, only _just_ hearing his friends tell him to break a leg over the wave of anxiety that was starting to hit him.

 

Ilse watched as Moritz made his way over to the stage on the other side of the room. She was sure he could feel the eyes of all his friends on him.

 

“He looks so nervous,” Wendla said next to her.

 

Everyone muttered in agreement.

 

“I’d be worried if he _didn’t_ look nervous,” Ernst replied.

 

“True.”

 

***

 

Moritz wasn’t sure if he was breathing at all, which definitely wasn’t a good thing. If he was going to sing then he needed to be breathing. He couldn’t have this be a bad performance. Especially with his friends in the audience. He couldn’t let them down. He could feel their eyes on him, as well as what he assumed were at least a few other people in the room and tried not to focus on it at all. Instead he smiled at the person who’d gone before him, some girl that he’d never spoken to and worried over checking if his guitar was in tune. He caught sight of his friends across the room and all of them gave him a giant thumbs up. He took a deep breath and tried not to knock over the mic stand as he approached it.

 

“Uh, hi,” he said, grateful that not everyone in the room was looking at him. It wasn’t all too quiet in here, just enough that it put him slightly on edge. He could deal with that. “I’m Moritz and this is a song I wrote for someone that … isn’t even here.” He was vaguely aware that he heard his friends give a loud cheer at that but his brain was already focusing on the chords he needed to play and his picking pattern.

 

Ilse didn’t look up as someone dropped into Moritz’s empty seat next to her. She barely registered the movement, too focused on her friend.

 

“Looks like I’m just in time,” a voice said.

 

 _Shit_. “I thought you weren’t coming,” she looked up at Melchior.

 

He just shrugged. “Wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

 

Moritz started the first few lines and Ilse couldn’t help but notice just how shocked everyone was.

 

“Listen, when you said Moritz was good I didn’t know you meant _this good_.” She wasn’t sure which of her friends had said it but she couldn’t help but smile.

 

She nudged Melchior gently, trying to get his attention. “You better listen to this,” she said.

 

“What?”

 

“The song. Really listen to it.”

 

Melchior had no idea what she meant by that, but she seemed very serious about something. He made the extra effort of zoning in to hear the lyrics.

 

 _“Holding on to moments fading fast, forever gone_  
_Let's pretend the sun won't rise and dance until the morn_ _  
Please don't go”_

 

He looked over at Ilse again. “This is kind of -”

 

“Romantic?” she supplied.

 

He nodded.

 

“I’m glad you picked up on that.”

 

It wasn’t until Moritz got to the chorus that he realised what she was trying to tell him.

 

 _“If I could write you a love song_  
_It would go on and on, and on, and on_  
_'Cause I see forever in your arms_ _  
So keep on holding on and on, and on, and on, and on”_

 

All at once everything started to make sense. He tapped Ilse on the shoulder again. “Question,” he muttered.

 

“Yes, the song’s about you, Melchi,” she replied.

 

He had no idea what he was supposed to do with this information.

 

***

 

Ilse was waiting for him when Moritz hopped down from the little stage. The adrenaline was still pulsing through his body and he smiled at her. He wasn’t entirely sure why she’d come to meet him here when they would just head back to the table anyway but he just shrugged it off.

 

“Did I do your favourite song justice?” he teased.

 

She smiled at that. “You always do.”

 

That was when he noticed it. She was slightly too stiff, something was worrying her. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Ok, so don’t panic -”

 

Moritz was sure that was always the absolute worst way to start a sentence.

 

“But Melchi is here.”

 

“He’s what?”

 

Ilse sighed. “He came in just after you started.”

 

His brain was spinning through far too many thoughts. If Melchior arrived just as the song started that meant that he’d heard it. All of it. It meant that he knew -

 

“Moritz, honestly, everything’s going to be fine,” she continued. “You know what he’s like, I doubt he noticed.” She’d made sure that Melchior noticed, but that wasn’t something she could own up to right now.

 

Moritz pulled at his hair absently, suddenly the room felt very hot. “This is fine,” he said, even if nothing was fine.

 

“Breathe, don’t let yourself overreact.”

 

But overreacting was what he did best. Moritz paused for a moment. He took a deep breath, looked up at her and nodded.

 

She smiled and let him follow her back to their table.

 

***

 

Moritz could tell that everyone was very aware of what was happening. He was jittery, far more so than he usually was and in the worst way possible. He could feel everyone’s eyes occasionally flicking between him and Melchior, but he busied himself by talking to Ernst about the poetry collection he was currently working on and focusing on absolutely anything but the fact that he could feel Melchior’s eyes on him. Which meant that he absolutely _did_ know what the song meant and who it was for. He thought he heard Ernst ask him if he was ok, regardless if he could tell that he wasn’t.

 

“I need some air,” he said, and barely waited for Ernst to nod before he was launching out of his seat and towards the door.

 

All of their conversations paused as they watched Moritz all but run for the door. As soon as it closed behind him they all turned to Melchior.

 

Melchior looked between them all, knowing immediately what they were asking of him. He wondered briefly how long everyone had known about this. “Alright, I’m going,” he said, standing and heading after him.

 

***

 

Moritz was grateful for the cold, and the way the chill in the air immediately brought him right back down to earth. He looked up and down the street. It was mostly deserted, not really anyone around. He guessed that it was a Wednesday night after all. Between that and the weather it probably explained why the bar wasn’t nearly as full tonight. Moritz decided to sit on the curb on the side of the road and try to keep himself calm. This wasn’t really anything to be panicking about. It’s not like Melchior _cared_ or that he’d _do_ anything about it. It’s just that now Moritz had to live with him knowing how he felt. Somehow that was so much harder than just having everyone else know instead. He heard a door open and shut his eyes for a moment, hoping that it was Ilse that had followed him instead. Of course it wouldn’t be, she would have pushed Melchior out here herself if she had to.

 

Melchior sat down next to him on the edge of the curb and waited to see if Moritz would look up. When he didn’t, just continued to stare across the street, he spoke. “I love you,” he said.

 

Moritz couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Sure you do, Melchi.”

 

He wasn’t sure to say to that, wasn’t sure what he expected. “Come on, you know I’m awful at this.”

 

Moritz twisted his hands in front of him but didn’t speak.

 

“I mean, how many people have broken up with me in the last year? I’m shit at -”

 

“Five,” he cut in. His eyes widened when he realised what he said, he coughed to try and cover the moment entirely. He had no idea why he’d been keeping count, hadn’t even been aware that he was. It wasn’t like it was important.

 

Melchior ran a hand through his hair absently. “I’m sorry, I guess that was insensitive.”

 

Moritz just shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

 

“You matter.” Melchior put a hand on his shoulder, squeezed gently. “You always matter, Moritz.”

 

Moritz closed his eyes for a moment, trying to let the gesture ground him. “You weren’t supposed to come tonight,” he tried.

 

His hand fell from his shoulder and he pulled at the hem of his jacket instead. “I’m sorry. I thought you would want me here.”

 

Of course he wanted him here. That wasn’t the point. “I would have picked a different song if I knew you were coming.” It was quiet enough that if the wind had been stronger it would have stolen his words away with it. He took a deep breath, burying his head in his hands and trying not to focus on this moment. It was something he’d been avoiding for a long time. This conversation wasn’t one that he thought he could have.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Melchior thought it was the most obvious question in the world. He wished that he could read his best friend’s mind because it didn’t seem like he was going to get an answer.

 

Moritz shifted, sitting up again and looking over at him for the first time since Melchior had sat next to him. “What would you have done, Melchi?” he asked. He could tell that he hadn’t expected the question. Melchior pulled back, looking obviously confused, unable to come up with what he wanted to say next. Moritz looked down at the road again instead.

 

“We could do this,” Melchior muttered. His voice was soft. It was a tone he only really used with Moritz, when it was dark outside and the world seemed to fall away. When it felt like it was just the two of them.

 

“Do what?”

 

He wished that Moritz would look up again, so that he could see how serious he was. “You and me, Moritz,” he said. “ _This_.”

 

Moritz swallowed, his hands pressed hard against his knees. He was trying to ignore the way his heart was starting to race at that. _This_ was something that he wanted. Something that he’d wanted for a long time. He was starting to think that maybe this moment wasn’t real. Maybe this was a dream and he’d overslept. Maybe he wasn’t even sitting outside this bar on the edge of the road with Melchior right now. He looked up at Melchior again. “How much have you had to drink?” he asked. “Because if you’ve been drinking you’re going to regret this in the morning.”

 

Deflecting. Always deflecting. Melchior wished that he was as good with words as everyone seemed to think he was. He shifted closer to him and hoped that somehow that would help his case. “I haven’t been drinking. The last thing I had was a coffee a few hours ago.”

 

Moritz nodded, his eyes drifted around, never quite landing on anything. His heart was beating so hard against his chest that he was sure it wanted to jump out towards Melchior, and he didn’t know if he’d be able to contain it. He wasn’t sure why he was pushing so hard against this. Of course Melchior couldn’t be drunk. Ilse had said he’d only just got there. Why did he always ask such stupid questions?

 

He waited, because he could see Moritz’s brain going a million miles a minute just like it always did when he was faced with making some kind of decision. It was spiralling through all the what ifs and the terrible scenarios and Melchior had never truly figured out a way to help in stopping it. He reached out, taking Moritz’s hands in his because Moritz was twisting them again.

 

Moritz went very still. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was feeling but knew that whatever it was he was feeling _a lot_ of it. He made the mistake of looking up at Melchior again, and he’d never actually seen Melchior nervous before but that seemed to be what he was. Moritz knew that he had to give him some sort of answer, and without even realising it he found himself leaning closer to Melchior. His brain was thinking far too much all at once and the movement hadn’t been something he registered, at least until there was only a few inches between them and Melchior seemed to catch on to what he was doing too. Moritz jolted, pulling away entirely and jumping to his feet.

 

“No,” he started. “No, that was weird. I can’t be doing _that._ That’s weird.”

 

Melchior wasn’t sure what to think of all of this. He wasn’t sure why he was so hurt by Moritz pulling away at the last second. He stood also, brushing the snow off his jeans absently. “I didn’t think it was weird,” he replied, wondering if Moritz noticed how rough his voice had suddenly became. It was probably just the cold.

 

Moritz wished that his eyes would lock onto anything that wasn’t Melchior in that moment, but they didn’t and _god_ he looked so good in the streetlight with the red from the neon sign next to them reflecting off his glasses and why couldn’t Moritz just _take_ the chances that he was given? “Are you sure?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

 

He nodded. “Very.”

 

The question left him before he had a chance to worry about Melchior’s response. “What are you doing on Saturday?”

 

Melchior blinked, part of him shocked at just how _forward_ that was. “Are you trying to ask me out?” he laughed, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face.

 

Moritz was sure that he was melting. “Maybe.”

 

Melchior just looked at him for a moment. He wasn’t sure if he needed to give a real answer. Surely, Moritz knew where he stood on that. “Come back inside.” he said instead. “It’s freezing out here.”

 

***

 

Moritz could feel the eyes of all his friends lock onto them the second he made it through the door with Melchior. He tried to ignore them, especially as they sat down and Melchior moved his chair closer. That definitely wasn’t something he was going to address directly. Everyone’s conversations started up again quickly, and Moritz found that he had a moment to catch his breath. He could feel Melchior’s leg pressed against his own under the table, and for whatever reason he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He felt someone nudge him and looked up to find Ilse smirking something wicked.

 

“You’re welcome,” she said.

 

He rolled his eyes at her. “Shut up.”


End file.
